Unseen

TUESDAY, JUNE 26

Anders Knutas was sitting in the barracks-like building that served as a cafeteria and store for the Sudersand campgrounds. He had a cup of coffee and a cheese sandwich in front of him.

It was six thirty in the morning, and Emma Winarve was still missing. The police had arrested the father, Jan Hagman, at his home and taken him to headquarters. They didn’t know whether he was involved in the murders or not, but they didn’t want to take any chances.

Worry was gnawing at Knutas. Was Emma still alive? Hagman ought to be somewhere on Faro. Travel by ferryboat had been halted at an early stage, and the main road to the ferry was blocked off. He couldn’t possibly have left the island, except by means of his own boat. Knutas considered that possibility most unlikely. The police had been combing Faro’s coast. Which way could he have gone? There was no archipelago and no islands close by where he might have found refuge. He couldn’t have made it to Gotska Sandon or the mainland without being discovered. The only possibility was that he might have traveled in his own boat and gone ashore somewhere along the Gotland coast. No, that seemed preposterous.

So we have to assume he’s still here on the island, thought Knutas, sucking on a sugar cube as he poured coffee into the saucer. Whenever he was alone, he drank from the saucer, just like his father. He slurped up the coffee with the sugar cube between his teeth.

As far as they knew, Jens Hagman had no friends or relatives on the island. According to his father, the family didn’t know anyone on Faro, although they had spent a lot of time there when the children were growing up. Several summers they had rented a cabin in Ekeviken. That means that Hagman knows the area well, thought Knutas.

In the northern section of the island, a search had been made of all the houses, barns, cabins, cottages, tents, and camping trailers. The process was still going on.

Could he be hiding somewhere else? Of course it was possible that he was hiding outdoors, but that was unlikely. The risk of being discovered was too great. Could he have an accomplice? Certainly, although that, too, seemed unlikely. He had killed three women in a matter of a few weeks. Who would want to help him? He was a madman who might do anything at all.

She had worked out several alternative plans by the time the hatch was opened once again. Hagman was carrying a knife.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she begged as he climbed down to the floor to stand in front of her.

He was holding the knife in his hand. The blade gleamed in the dim light.

Hagman looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Why shouldn’t I hurt you?”

“I understand why you killed the others. It was terrible, what we did to you.”

“You don’t understand a thing,” he snarled, and his eyes blazed with anger.

The only weapon she had was her power of persuasion. She went on. “I know that it was unforgivable, and I’ve thought of contacting you so many times. I wanted to ask you to forgive me. I’m so sorry. But we were just kids.”

“Just kids,” he snorted with contempt. “That’s easy for you to say. My life has been hell because of what all of you did to me. I’ve always been so damned afraid. Because of you, I could never meet any girls, I never dared have any kind of contact with people, and I’ve been so fucking lonely. Just kids,” he repeated, his voice filled with scorn. “You knew what you were doing. My whole life was destroyed because of you. Now it’s your turn to pay.”

Emma desperately tried to think of something more to talk about, to win time, but she was also terrified that she might provoke him.

“So why did you decide not to kill me?” she asked.

“Don’t think it’s just some lucky coincidence. I’ve planned out everything very carefully.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to take out everybody who ever tormented me, one by one, starting with the worst of the lot. After I did that, it was time to go after Helena.”

“What?”

For a moment her terror subsided slightly and was replaced by surprise.

He looked at her in the dark. “My so-called mother. Everyone thinks she took her own life.”

He laughed mirthlessly.

“The police are such fools. They swallowed the whole scenario. But I did it. I killed her, and I enjoyed doing it. She had no right to live. A mother who gives birth to children she doesn’t care about at all. What kind of mother is that?” Jens Hagman’s voice had grown more shrill. He was practically screaming. It felt as if the air in the bunker might give out.

“So she didn’t care about you?” Emma whispered, in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’m a botched abortion just walking around. That’s what I’ve always been. Unwanted,” he said harshly. “But that bitch ended up paying for it. She certainly did,” he said triumphantly as he stared at her.

She couldn’t help seeing the madness in his eyes.

The thought struck her with all its force. There was no way out. She was never going to see her children again. She made the utmost effort not to start crying, not to lose control.

At that moment, the faint sound of a helicopter was heard. Hagman gave a start and listened intently.

“Don’t move, or I’ll kill you instantly,” he snarled. “And keep quiet.”

The helicopter seemed to be circling right overhead. Suddenly Knutas’s voice sounded through a megaphone.

“Jens Hagman! This is the police. We know you’re down there. You might as well give yourself up. We’ve got you surrounded, and we’ve taken your car. You don’t have a chance. The best thing you can do is surrender. Come out with your hands over your head!”

Hagman dragged Emma off the bench with such force that she almost fell over. He was holding the knife to her throat as he backed up toward the opening in the wall. He peered out. Emma caught a glimpse of the sea. It was clear that he was confused. He was cornered, and that made him even more dangerous. She wished he would ease up his hold on her throat.

For a moment there was silence.

Then the voice shouted through the megaphone again.

“Hagman! This is the police speaking. You don’t have a chance. Come out with your hands over your head!”

Jens Hagman acted fast and decisively. He cut the rope off Emma’s ankles, pushed up the hatch, and shoved her up the ladder ahead of him. He was right behind her. Warm air greeted her at the top. Emma saw her chance to escape. She would exit before he did. The ladder was so narrow and the bunker’s opening so small that it would be impossible for both of them to emerge at the same time. When she was almost above ground and about to take the last step up and out of the bunker, she kicked with all her might at Hagman below her on the ladder. The kick struck him in the face, and he started swearing. The next moment she felt his hand around one of her ankles, and she tumbled to the ground outside.

Her attempt to escape was over even before it began.

Hagman snarled into her ear, “Try another trick like that and you’re dead. Just so you know.”

She squinted up at the morning light and let her gaze take in as much as it could from her trapped position. They were at the edge of the woods, with the sea on one side and green-clad hills on the other, surrounded by police officers with weapons drawn. On a slope a short distance away stood Anders Knutas with the megaphone in his hand.

Hagman held her in front of him like a shield.

“Everybody, get away! Otherwise I’m going to kill her, right here and now. I only want the superintendent to stay. I want a car with a full tank of gas and a hundred thousand kronor in a bag in the car. Plus food and water, enough for three days. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll slit her throat. Do you understand? And it has to be fast! If I don’t get the car within two hours, I’ll kill her.”

Knutas lowered the hand holding the megaphone. A minute passed. Then, “We’ll do what you ask,” he shouted back.

He turned to a colleague standing next to him, and they exchanged a few words. Five minutes later all the officers were gone. Hagman hadn’t moved from his position. Emma saw the sea and some gulls flying over the water, poppies in bloom, blueweed, almond blossoms, and chicory. It was all so beautiful that it hurt. Again she thought about her children. Their summer vacation had begun, but here she stood. Only an inch from death.

Knutas was talking on his cell phone. When he finished the conversation, he began shouting toward them. “We have a problem with securing the money so quickly. We need more time.”

The hold on Emma’s throat tightened.

“I don’t give a shit about your problems. Get the money here. You have exactly one hour and fifty minutes left. Or else she dies!”

As if to emphasize his words, he nicked Emma’s throat so the blood ran. She didn’t even feel the pain.

Almost two hours later a green Audi drove up onto the road a hundred yards away from where they stood. An officer climbed out.

Knutas shouted to Hagman. “The car has a full tank of gas. The keys are in the ignition.”

The officer lifted out a suitcase, which he opened to show them the contents. He held up some bundles of bills.

“And inside the suitcase is a hundred thousand kronor in hundred-krona bills,” shouted Knutas. “Along with food and water. Just like you wanted.”

“Good,” screamed Hagman in reply. “Move at least two hundred yards away from the car. I want safe passage to the ferry. It’s going to take us across to Farosund. Otherwise she dies,” he repeated.

“Understood,” shouted Knutas.

Jens Hagman shoved Emma in front of him toward the car. He kept his eyes moving constantly in all directions.

The engine howled. Then the Audi swung around, and the next instant they were out on the road heading for Farosund.

Thoughts were racing through Emma’s mind. She had to do something. As soon as they shook off the police, he was going to kill her. She was certain of that. They were already approaching the ferry. She could tell by the markings on the asphalt of the road.

Hagman slowed down. There was the ferry, waiting. She could see the captain up in the wheelhouse. A sailor stood on deck to cast off.

Then everything started happening at breakneck speed.

Police cars came rushing from all directions. Jens Hagman reacted with lightning speed and steered around them. Officers tried to yank open the doors but were knocked away as Hagman sharply turned the Audi. A short distance up the hill, he ran into more police cars. He drove off the road and continued cross-country, weaving among the juniper bushes and boulders. He lost control of the car, and Emma managed to scream before they smashed right into a pine tree. The sound of the crash was tremendous. She was flung into the windshield, which shattered. An explosion of glass rained down on her. She managed to see Hagman getting out and taking off. Thick clouds of smoke billowed up around her. She opened the car door with her foot, threw herself out, and collapsed onto the ground.

Karin Jacobsson saw the car from far away. Then she could make out Emma lying on the ground next to the car. Hagman was running away from it. She pulled her pistol out of the holster and snapped off the safety.

“Hagman!” she yelled to the other officers. “There he is!”

At the same moment, Jens Hagman saw her. He started running for the woods. Behind her, Jacobsson could hear voices shouting to each other. She held her gun up and aimed at Hagman’s legs, racing after him.

“Halt!” she commanded.

Instead, he disappeared behind an old windmill.

Jacobsson slowed down. She knew that he was armed. He might easily overpower her if she wasn’t prepared.

Cautiously she slipped around the side of the windmill. She heard a sound and turned around. Suddenly Hagman was on her. They rolled around on the ground. The crack of the shot that went off was deafening. The body on top of hers went limp.

When Emma woke up in Visby Hospital, it took a moment before she remembered what had happened. Then the images came back, one by one. The bunker. Knutas with the megaphone. Hagman holding the knife to her throat. Then the crash.

She opened her eyes. Blinked. Two blurry figures were standing next to the bed. Someone was sitting on a chair farther away.

“Mamma,” said a small voice.

It was Filip. Now she could see him clearly. His face was thin and pale, his eyes shiny. A second later he was in her arms, and Sara was right behind him.

“My dear sweet children. Everything’s going to be fine now,” Emma comforted them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband get up from his chair and come toward her.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. It was over. Finally over.

A nurse came in and explained that they would have to come back tomorrow. They hugged her one more time.

Emma realized how tired she was. She had to sleep. She would just get up to pee. Her whole world had been turned upside down. The time she had spent imprisoned in the bunker with Hagman felt like an eternity. That was what she thought as she listened to the stream of urine splashing into the toilet. She washed up, drank a glass of water, and went back to her room.

Next to the bed stood a vase with daisies and cornflowers. A card was attached to one of the stems. She smiled as she read what it said. It was from Knutas. He told her to get well soon and said he would call her the following day.

She crawled into bed and straightened her pillow. Her body was black and blue, and she had a headache. Right now all she wanted was to go to sleep.

As she was about to turn off the light on the nightstand, her eyes fell on a vase of yellow roses that stood on the windowsill.

With an effort, she got out of bed and found an envelope stuck in the bouquet. The card was from Johan. It said, “Do you want to have a potato patch with me?”

Knutas took a long puff on his pipe, which gave him a terrible coughing fit. Normally he hardly ever smoked. He spent most of the time just fussing with his pipe, filling it and sucking on the stem, but not lighting it. A very effective way to avoid lung cancer. Over the past few days, though, he had started smoking like never before. In half an hour the investigative team was going to meet to go over the dramatic events that had shaken all of Gotland this summer.

Knutas reviewed them in his mind.

As he was sitting in the barracks at the Sudersand campgrounds, his colleague Lars Norrby had called from Visby. He reported that one of Gunilla Olsson’s neighbors had identified Jens Hagman as the man who was seen at Gunilla’s house during the weeks before the murder. So that’s how cold-blooded he was, thought Knutas. He had made a point of getting to know Gunilla before he killed her.

It was Knutas himself who came up with the idea that Jens Hagman might be hiding in one of the old defense bunkers on Faro. There were lots of them on the island. When the police began searching the northwest section of Faro, it didn’t take long before they found Hagman’s car in the woods. The Saab was scantily covered with juniper branches, but it was so sheltered that it was hard to see from the air.

Knutas blamed himself for the fact that the drama ended with Hagman being fatally shot.

Karin Jacobsson went into shock and had to spend several days in the hospital. She had never even wounded anyone before. Now she was at risk of being accused of dereliction of duty and possibly manslaughter. The investigation, which would be carried out by the internal affairs division of the police, would have to prove it. Actually Knutas was entirely to blame. He was in charge of the operation. Maybe things would have turned out differently if they hadn’t agreed to Hagman’s demands. If they had called in a negotiator. Or if they had stormed the bunker.

He gave a big sigh. It was impossible to say.

He had thought a lot about Hagman. His whole life had been colored by hatred, which had developed so strongly during his childhood. It turned out to have affected all his dealings with women. He had never managed to have any sort of long-term relationship. He lived alone and had a hard time establishing social contacts. He had quit his studies at the university and worked as a ticket collector in Stockholm’s subway system. Even his relationship with his sister was strained. They had never been good friends, in spite of the fact that the age difference between them was only a few years.

Their parents had done nothing to see to it that the sister and brother maintained any kind of contact. The mother had always favored the daughter. The father, Jan Hagman, had cared less and less about his family as time went on. He had retreated into himself. Just like the mother. Neither of them had noticed what was happening with their son-the torments he was subjected to, his loneliness, or the anxiety he felt. The result was devastating.

The children had been like two isolated islands floating through life, without support or help from anyone. Both had to deal with their own problems and their own emotions. There was no sense of unity, no family solidarity.

In some ways, Knutas could understand Jens Hagman. A person didn’t necessarily have to be mentally ill to commit murder. It was sometimes enough to be seriously abused.

The issue of poor parental contact was woven like a red thread through the entire murder investigation. It was the same with the victims. Helena Hillerstrom, Frida Lindh, and Gunilla Olsson had all had strained relationships with their parents. Knutas had a feeling that it was the same with Emma Winarve. It was one thing that both the victims and the perpetrator had in common. He wondered what the turning point was that pushed him over the edge.

Knutas got up and looked out across the sun-drenched parking lot. A ladybug was crawling along the windowsill. He let it climb onto his finger and opened the window.

It spread its wings and flew away.